Existentialism of an ExDrone
by deputayjane
Summary: After Voyager returns to the Alpha Quadrant, many crewmembers are dissatisfied with the resumption of their lives. This story will follow many characters, but mainly Seven of Nine, as she explores humanity from a philosophical view, and a new relationship
1. Introduction

Introduction - "Alpha"

The excitement over the Federation Starship Voyager's anticipated return from the Delta quadrant was disappointingly short-lived. Seven years, the crew had seemingly floated from one altercation with unknown alien races to the next, tumultuously careening their way towards home: Earth. Seven years of long nights, weary battles, and foreign foods that threatened human palettes. Seven years of dreaming about loved ones, wishing to tell them any random word, longing with desperation for their company once more.

All that build-up and then little to show for it. Sure, there were a few days of celebrations, welcoming parties, promotions, and pats on the back from Starfleet. However, once the debriefings and medical quarantines had ended, the crew was released from duty, and all accounts of the seven years they had spent on the other side of the galaxy were shoved into databases. It would seem that the fate of Voyager's most explosive discoveries about life in the Delta quadrant were to be shuffled and filed by Informational Data Support System Holograms (ID's for short), Starfleet's fanciest form of the modern secretary. Former chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres had remarked during her toast at Admiral Kathryn Janeway's promotional ceremony that "if Starfleet can't throw their favorite token stranded crewmen a real coming-home party, maybe we should get stuck somewhere else for another seven years". Her bitter comment would have been held in disregard by the Admiral, and most former shipmates present, if it had not rang of such truth and upset that was unanimously shared.

To add insult to injury, the majority of the crew found that so much had changed in their absence, they were not returning to the home they had longed for at all. This remained true despite communications between Voyager and the Alpha quadrant that had been possible for several months; there simply was too much change to relate in brief 11-minute conversations, and as a result, an excess of surprises were in store for every crewmember. In fact, it seemed that the only positive news came for many in the former Maquis crew, who had left the Alpha quadrant with little to call home or family. However now many of them had places to stay, at least temporarily, with the friends or lovers they had established onboard Voyager. As for the pre-established Starfleet officers? Those who didn't have homes of their own or who had lived with partners and spouses found themselves on the doorsteps of relatives looking for a bed. Ironically, there were only 15 crewmembers from the entire ship who had remained faithful to the hope of returning to their significant others, and found that the same had been done for them since Voyager's disappearance.

The ultimate letdown had been hard to take for all involved. All their expectations of Earth had been blown out of proportion over the years significantly, and they had created an idealism that was simply not possible, by any standards. It was no one's fault, really. However, when Chakotay decided to throw a "small get-together" in Arizona to celebrate his birthday at his familial estate, it came as quite a surprise that nearly every single former member of Voyager's crew was in attendance. Three months had passed since they had come home, and through their dissatisfaction, they had decided to join together and find a way out.


	2. The Party

Chapter One – The Party 

Chakotay would never turn anyone away who asked for his help, it simply was not in his nature. That was why, upon returning to Earth and discovering he was in a more fortunate position than some of his counterparts, he literally opened his doors to Voyager's former crew. This included his girlfriend, Seven of Nine, who was adjusting with great difficulty to new surroundings and her sudden lack of duty to perform aboard a starship. Not to say that there wasn't plenty to do around Chakotay's new "homestead". The loss of Voyager had been well-publicized and as a result, the relatives he had been seeking out for most of his youth in Central America had become well-aware of his existence. They gifted him with a 5-acre plot of land that was part of a larger community, but it had been easy to see why that particular plot was not really up for grabs by anyone else. The ranch house had not been inhabited for 40 years, the soil was dry and infertile, and the potential forestland was filled with stumps and roots that choked the earth. Still, it was more than 13 men and women had to go home to, so they joined Chakotay in his renovations that served to trade for a place to stay and some semblance of family. His generosity stretched to great lengths, but it was pulled even further when he began receiving the RSVPs for his birthday party. 43 invitations had been sent out, some of them without certain addresses, as many of his friends had relocated more than 10 times in only 3 months. He had tentatively jotted at the bottom "if you hear from anyone else from Voyager, let them know they may come". By the weekend before, he had 140 replies. By the middle of the week: 160. That was not only more people than he had expected, it was more people than had even served aboard Voyager, plus the 13 (including Seven of Nine) that were living with him already.

The night before the party, Chakotay was in the living room testing some of the refreshments with Freddy Bristow when Seven asked to speak with him about the "festivities". They went into the basement pantry, the only room in the house they had found that they could spend time in without being overheard or disturbed by the house guests.

Chakotay immediately sensed that the nature of this discussion would not be enjoyable, and he crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, expecting the worst. "What's going on, Seven? Is there a problem with the party?"

"There is not a... 'problem'. However, I do feel apprehensive about the execution of tomorrow's plans. I have found several flaws with the original itinerary that will not accommodate a crowd of 174 potential guests."

He dropped his arms and flashed a crooked smile of bemusement. "Is that all?"

Her serious gaze confirmed that yes, it was.

"That's not exactly how a party works, especially one with close friends. People show up, they have a good time, we will talk and eat food. There's nothing scientific about 'executing' it properly."

Seven pursed her lips slightly, but her expression remained neutral. "In my experiences with parties they have all followed a particular pattern and itinerary that maximizes both the enjoyment of the guests and achieves the goals of the situation. For example," she pulled a PADD from behind her back that had seemed to materialize from thin air, "for Neelix's Valentines Day Party the goals of the celebration were as follows: one, all guests will be divided into couples for the purpose of competitive games. Two -"

"I remember the party, Seven. What is bothering you, exactly? You haven't been analyzing data and reading off PADDs of data you collected from observing human behavior since we left Voyager. We're not there anymore, we're here. On Earth. Until Starfleet commissions another vessel and wants us on it (which I doubt will happen in my lifetime), we are done with duty reports and regulations." He dipped his head to seek out eye contact with her, but she had focused intently on something down and to the left and refused his gaze. "Listen, if you are nervous about the party for other reasons, then just tell me what they are. You don't need to dodge what you are feeling and try to disguise it because it seems like it's unreasonable. Feelings don't always make sense at first, but sometimes if you explain them to someone else, then you can derive logic about them together."

"I do not wish to remain engaged in pursuit of frivolous accomplishments. I wish to return to a starship." Seven mumbled.

Chakotay appeared stunned for a moment, his eyebrows raised stiffly as though they were affixed that way. He cleared his throat, which had suddenly become dry. "What do you consider to be frivolous, Seven?"

She looked up to his face. "I do not derive a sense of purpose from my surroundings... here. I feel as though my efforts are futile and there is nothing to be gained except prolonging my existence. There are no tasks which serve a primary function, except for eating and sleeping, which I do not particularly take pleasure in, as I had begun to in the last year I spent on Voyager."

"So you think that if you are not on a ship somewhere, it doesn't matter what you do?"

"Chakotay please do not become irritated with me. You did ask specifically for me to identify my feelings and communicate them with you, which I have done. However, your observations are correct with my current state; I do not believe that my actions here are allowing me to perform at my complete potential, and I believe I would be better suited to an environment where I could be put to use based on my skills and expertise."

"Like standing in an astrometrics lab all day?" He crossed his arms yet again and took a step closer. "I know that it is different for you living here, with me, when you have spent your whole life performing 'functional tasks' for a collective of one form or another. But this is the way that people live here on Earth, this is the way that things are when you're not out evening scores for the Federation or fighting for something you believe in on a renegade ship. We spend time doing the things that we enjoy because we can, because we want to. We don't wait for orders that will improve the efficiency of the warp drive or bio-neural gel packs. I know it's very different for you. It's been hard for me to remember what things were like before we were on Voyager, too. But it will be at least another year before any of us are commissioned by Starfleet, and with our backgrounds, it is unlikely that is going to happen at all. You know that. Janeway warned us both about it."

"Then perhaps there is another place where my abilities would be beneficial."

Neither one of them said anything for a moment. Chakotay could feel his own heart racing and he was not at all unaware of the fact that this was quickly becoming a decision he could not talk Seven out of making. Against his better judgment, he spoke his mind.

"Is this a problem with our relationship that you are having? I know that it has taken a lot for you to get used to, and most couples do not start living together right away, but the circumstances were unavoidable."

"No, I do not harbor animosity towards you. I did not originally seek to terminate our relationship, I simply do not share your... infatuation with this particular lifestyle and I have been considering alternative solutions better suited to me. I did not wish to seriously pursue any alternatives, but now that we have been discussing it, I am finding that perhaps I have felt more strongly about this subject than I admitted or was immediately aware of."

"See, talking about things with someone else does make them clearer." He managed a weak laugh, but it was unnatural while keeping company with his entirely sad demeanor.

"Indubitably. However, your emotions have been a casualty of my needs and... I'm sorry, Chakotay. I did not intend to upset you."

He reached out and pulled her into an embrace, his bear-like frame wrapping around hers warmly and easing a great deal of the tension in the air. "It's all right," he spoke softly, "you should follow where your spirit guides you, and only if mine leads me the same way will we know that we are meant to meet there together."

Seven wasn't entirely sure what that was supposed to mean, but she had become used to Chakotay's cryptic sayings that often involved destiny, spirits, and predetermined fates which had no practical meaning as far as she could determine. Her efforts to make them useful had come up with nothing. So, her pleasant alternative was enjoying their close contact and her sudden feeling of relief that came with the knowledge of her freedom to seek out more satisfying goals with Chakotay's consent.

He seemed to read her thoughts at that moment when he spoke again. "Maybe tomorrow you will be able to discover what some of the others have found to do since we returned. Who knows, there might be some good opportunities."

She pulled away and looked at her boyfriend with a smile of certainty. "I hope so. I would like to stay in close proximity to you, even if do happen to be assigned aboard a vessel."

"Of course. We should probably get back to helping the others prepare for tomorrow. I trust that you no longer feel apprehensive about the party now that we talked?"

"No, quite the opposite."

Chakotay forced another smile. "Good. I'm glad." He remained smiling until she turned her back to exit the pantry, when a solemn look resumed in its place. Deep down, he was well aware of the fact that this had been coming since the first week they had spent on the ranch, as it was obviously not an environment Seven was enamored with. Some part of him had been hoping that she wouldn't discover it quite so soon, though, or that maybe he could convince her that there were benefits to living in a community where friendship was the only duty to perform. Then again, she wasn't the only one. Two of the former crewmen who were also staying with Chakotay had expressed that they would be seeking a new living arrangement in the immediate future, despite their gratefulness toward his hospitality. Inwardly he cursed himself for not having the foresight to judge that accepting his gift from his distant relatives also came with unspoken responsibilities, that he was more than apt to fulfill. However, for someone without his cultural background, this could be overwhelming and the general inactivity of the community was frustrating for people who expected things in a timely manner. Seven's ideas heavily contradicted with the attitudes surrounding Chakotay's new neighbors and family members. He only wished he had realized it before, but now it was too late. The place he had sought out his whole life to finally come home to, was the last place in the galaxy that Seven would want to stay.

* * *

"...that was when I decided I would no longer be needing my replicator rations, by my own accord of course, and it had nothing to do with Chakotay whatsoever!"

Ensign Jor's toast ended with laughter and applause from all who had been able to hear it, and also from the bulk of the crowd who didn't. Chakotay's "backyard" had been converted into an enormous sheltered area with tables, chairs, and 12 tables of food underneath a tent that had taken over a week and 20 people to create. It would have been enough for the guest list, but the carrying sound of the party brought a steady stream of neighbors. All in all, it was a celebration of mammoth proportions for his 50th birthday.

The beginning of the day had been somewhat civilized, with joyous reunions between former shipmates being the focus of the morning. However, by early afternoon those who knew Chakotay originally as Maquis comrades staged a drinking contest that changed the flow of activities considerably. This was followed by "toasts" which actually were embarrassing or degrading stories involving Chakotay, in an unspoken battle to see who could come up with the worst. The best of the toasts was from the Doctor, while the least humorous had been from Reginald Barclay, who merely recounted details of Chakotay's assistance in bringing Voyager back to Earth. Ensign Jor clearly had thought that hers, involving vomiting on the Commander's shoes, would be an asset. However, her judgment was clouded by a homemade red wine that had somehow found its way to the party, and she ended up telling more embarrassing details about herself than the birthday boy by the end of her speech.

Ken Dalby, in an effort to win a wager he had made with several other men at the party, tried to say the most offensive things possible for his toast, to see if they could start a brawl or at the very least cause Chakotay to punch someone (probably Dalby). He was almost successful when he called Seven "a fine piece of ass", but his motives were extremely transparent judging from the way he kept holding his hands over his face at the end of every insult or inappropriate remark.

By dusk, the inebriated party-goers had begun to settle down somewhat in preparation for bringing out the cake, and also conversation had grown serious in several of the main circles of the group. Harry Kim had been doing well with his promotion to Lieutenant, and was reassigned for a deep space mission where his girlfriend Libby could accompany him, pending their recent engagement. His good fortune was overshadowed, however, by the news that former crewman William McKenzie had committed suicide two weeks before. Very few people at the party had been aware, since in William's case, there had been no family to inform. Kim only knew of it through a briefing he happened across by accident that was included with Starfleet documents.

"Did it say anything about where he was buried?" Chakotay asked, voicing a similar concern as the audience that surrounded Harry Kim in a large circle.

"No, it only said that his location of death was near Cairns, and that they didn't know of any will or wishes made on his behalf."

There was a solemn silence over the group. Several people continued to gather around them, quietly, and join in the impromptu mourning which was taking place. Finally, after some edging from his peers, Lieutenant Rollins cleared his throat and addressed the forming crowd.

"The loss of William reminds us, that he was not the only one who returned to find that not all remained as we left it. There are many of us, our friends, who felt we lost everything by leaving the Alpha quadrant, only now perhaps the opposite is true. I only know that..." the typically-brave man took a moment to bow his head and compose himself, "I know that when I left Earth, I left behind a wife and two children that I thought I would be seeing very soon after a simple routine mission. For the seven years we were gone, I expected to still come home to them again someday. I never dreamed that they would no longer be waiting. Most of you are in similar, if not worse situations. We have all but been abandoned by the Federation, who has placed us on a list of either inconvenient or unfit for duty, yet they will not discharge us from service since we still are in the public eye, to some extent."

The lack of objection from former senior officers present held an air of shamefulness over the Federation's inaction. Rollins took a deep breath and continued.

"It's no mere coincidence that we all crashed your party, Commander."

Chakotay smiled and shrugged. "I thought it might have been the promise of real alcohol, but I guess I was wrong about that."

Several people laughed, along with Rollins. "That did help make a case, but many of us had already discussed the possibility of coming together to discuss our options and futures... this just provided the perfect opportunity. Of course, we are here to celebrate with you..."

Rollins was cut off as applause and cheers broke out in praise of Chakotay, who nodded humbly. When the noise died down, the man of honor stood up to respond to Rollins and likewise address his friends and colleagues.

"Well, as much as I am glad that you are all here for my birthday, I also have been concerned about our crew over the past few months," Chakotay looked sorrowfully down at the glass he held in his right hand, "it seems that tragedies and misfortune has come for nearly all of you, and our struggles did not end when we reached this side of the galaxy once again.

"Reginald was telling me earlier that he has been working with Admiral Janeway, who as you know couldn't make it here today. She will be working with a team of scientists for the next several months to analyze technology and data we collected from our encounters with new races, but she assured him when that mission is complete, she will be making very strong requests for her former crew to be utilized once again. The Federation is aware of your desires to be placed on a ship or assigned officer specifications, although I do know that some of you have rejoined the Maquis out of restlessness. I hope that this doesn't prove to be too expending upon you..."

He continued to elaborate to the eager audience, who had all been counting on his voice to reassure them of a more gratifying future. It seemed so redundant to be hoping for more from the Alpha quadrant, after all the hope they had spent for the last seven years. Yet they continued to believe in his leadership.

As Chakotay began to talk about an idea he had for expanding his ranch, and making a place for more dislocated crewmembers to stay temporarily, B'Elanna Torres excused herself and exited the tent, carrying her infant daughter, Miral. She walked along the short path and into Chakotay's house, hoping to find a private area where she could breastfeed away from the crowd. However, the downstairs of the ranch house was filled with people, mostly Native Americans that B'Elanna recognized (or rather assumed), to be neighbors from the community. She saw Freddy Bristow in the kitchen, finishing Chakotay's cake, who directed her upstairs.

B'Elanna reflected that the decoration and design of the house in every way screamed Chakotay. Walking up the stairs, she was met with holoimages of smiling faces lining the walls, some of the pictures taken on Voyager, others were before and after pictures of the ranch. It was obvious they had done a lot of work in only a few months there.

At the top of the stairs was a bathroom, and a single bedroom, which was originally a loft but had been closed off. There was some light coming through the windows, but it was very dim, and Torres couldn't see much in the room except for a chair near the wall.

"Computer, lights?" She asked, half-knowing that there would be no response. As suspected, there was no integrated computer system in the bedroom to supply illumination, so B'Elanna opted for the chair, and settled in with a very hungry Miral.

"Yeah, you are hungry, aren't you?" She cooed down to her daughter. "I know, I waited too long. We're going to have to go soon anyway so you can get some sleep tonight. Yeah, that's right. You're not going to keep me up all night this time. No you're not."

B'Elanna stopped talking and look up to see a figure rising from the far side of the room, an area she had mistakenly judged to be several lumps of pillows. It was, although it also contained a person within the pile.

"Lieutenant Torres, excuse me." The figure pardoned as heading to the door.

"Seven? I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here. Were you sleeping?"

Seven reached over and turned on the light, which was a pale yellow bulb contained within a paper globe, and did little to brighten the room except make objects visible at best. "I believe you were searching for the lights before, and no I was not asleep, merely... resting." Even in the dim light it was obvious that the skin around her eyes was puffy and red, her hair was slightly disheveled, she had clearly been crying or extremely upset at the least.

"I didn't see you at the party much, have you been up here the whole time?"

"I spent some of the afternoon speaking to the Doctor, and also I was sent to the market by Freddy to retrieve additional beverages. Since then I have been here," she looked around the room and sighed, "I found the celebration to be a little too chaotic for my tastes."

B'Elanna smiled. "Well, I've missed your logic, Seven."

To this, the ex-drone raised an eyebrow quizzically. "I have... missed your presence in my life as well. It seems I am not as well-equipped to adapt to life on Earth as I had originally presumed. However, seeing you does remind me of being aboard Voyager again."

"You're not the only one who misses it."

B'Elanna looked down to her daughter, who had stopped eating and was settling in for a nap. She quickly refastened her tunic and settled the infant across her chest and shoulder.

"Do you mind if I sit down? I would like to see Miral." Seven politely asked.

"I... no, Seven. I don't mind. It's your house, I am the one intruding in your bedroom. In fact, I could leave if you want to rest some more, she is done eating now."

"It is Chakotay's bedroom, and I do not feel as though you have intruded." Seven sat down on the bed a few feet away from the half-Klingon, and stared intently at Miral as though studying her. Her eyes were filled with fascination and wonder, and her mouth curved into a tiny smile.

"When she has settled down some, you could hold her if you wanted. But I doubt you want her to spit up on you." B'Elanna laughed and kissed her daughter's tiny arm.

"Thank you Lieutenant, I would enjoy that."

"You can call me B'Elanna, you know. My rank doesn't mean much down here anyway."

"It will be difficult for me to get used to, but I will try and remember."

Torres nodded and leaned back in the chair comfortably with a smile. Seven watched her and observed that she seemed much happier and content now than she had ever witnessed her in the duration of their (somewhat strained) relationship. She inwardly wondered if returning to life on Earth had been more meaningful for the former chief engineer, as it had been for Chakotay and a few others who longed for a quieter, more domestic life.

"Chakotay told me that there are 12 other people living here with you and him." B'Elanna said, breaking Seven's train of thought.

"Yes, and there are going to be more displaced crewmen in the near future, as well. He is going to expand the house to accommodate additional guests."

"Seems pretty crowded. What do you think about it?"

Seven paused, contemplating what to disclose to her former superior. "I... am seeking alternative arrangements." She felt uncertain of what to say, even several months of close-quarters with Chakotay had not allowed her to become used to telling people her thoughts and feelings on demand.

"What do you mean? You two are breaking up?"

"I am not certain at this time. I only know that I will be seeking designation for a starship through my connection with Admiral Janeway, but if the Federation refuses a second time, I will most likely seek employment in the fields of science or astronomy."

"I'm sorry if things haven't been ideal for you here, Seven. I guess I am one of the few lucky ones who was able to fall back into something I care about, to keep my mind off all the things that changed while we were in the Delta quadrant. But not everything is easy, Tom has been forcibly assigned to the Gridiron by his father, and most of my closest friends have moved away. It's quite a shock to go from the closeness of a starship. Knowing someone is only a few decks away whenever you need them is something I took for granted." She shifted Miral in her arms and then looked at Seven warmly. "It's nice to see familiar faces, though. I know that the crew of Voyager was more of a family for a lot of people than anything they've ever had, and losing that is tough."

"I feel I would have to agree with you." Seven looked down at her hands, resting in her lap. "I often wish that we had not been returned to the Alpha quadrant, though I know it is wrong to do so."

"It's not wrong to wish that. I wish it, too, now that we're here. I don't think anyone got what they expected when we returned, and it's been disappointing. I certainly didn't think that I would be snubbed by Starfleet, have my husband shipped off, and be left with nowhere to go except to my father."

"I understood that you had not spoken to your father since you were 12 years old."

"Yeah, that's part of the problem. A little difficult to get over a lifetime of hating someone, but I'm managing it. I know I wouldn't be able to if I weren't a parent now, myself." B'Elanna touched her nose to her daughter's softly, and then held her out towards Seven. "Here, would you like to hold her now?"

Seven awkwardly and wordlessly accepted, holding Miral as though she were a bundle of the most delicate glass and would explode at any second by her own free will. B'Elanna noticed this with a slight chuckle.

"She won't run away, Seven. If you rock her slowly, she'll fall to sleep."

The hesitant blonde nodded and did as instructed. She watched the infant for a moment and then looked up at B'Elanna with a smile. "She looks more like you than Lieutenant Paris."

"Probably the forehead ridges."

"No... I believe it is her eyes that are the same. Her skin pigmentation also resembles yours more closely, as well."

Torres laughed heartily. "Well I suppose that is a compliment."

"It is." Seven replied matter-of-factly, but her smile remained.

B'Elanna watched as her daughter began to drift off to sleep. "You have a way with babies, congratulations."

"I am only doing as you instructed me."

"Trust me, it's harder than it seems. For the three weeks we were here before Tom left, she cried every time he went to pick her up. He's hoping it will be better when he gets back, but if he's gone too long then she won't remember him at all."

Seven refrained from pointing out that it was more likely that Miral had no knowledge that Tom was even her father at all. She couldn't think of anything to say in reply, so she remained focused on rocking the infant steadily.

"You know," Torres said in a low voice, "if you do end up looking for a job at a science facility, I could talk to my father about you coming to work with us. He is running a team of researchers and engineers in Celaya that are developing warp engines for civilian transports. It's not very structured, but they did just secure a contract with a merchant fleet and I know he wants to expand. I'm sure he would want you to be involved, I've already told him about you."

"Thank you... B'Elanna. I appreciate that very much. It does sound like an occupation I would be suited for."

The women shared a brief smile, something that might not have happened quite so comfortably back on Voyager.

"I do have to inquire," Seven began, "what was it that you told your father about me?"

"Well..."

B'Elanna was cut short by the Doctor entering the bedroom, his usual wide grin spread across his face.

"Good evening ladies, I was told I would find you both here. It seems that the cake is about to be presented, and I didn't want either of you to miss out." He shuffled eagerly over to them and leaned over Seven. "Miral has grown considerably since I last saw her," the Doctor blurted out before either woman could speak, "don't forget that I am still her primary physician, as well as godfather, and that means I should be seeing you both in two months."

Torres rolled her eyes. "Way to ruin a social event with threats, Doc."

He ignored the brunette entirely. "May I see her for a moment?"

Seven complied, and carefully handed over Miral. The Doctor held her for less than 5 seconds before she started crying. He appeared very disappointed by this, and his expression faltered considerably. "It would seem she prefers the company of other women." He offered as an explanation, handing her back to Seven.

"Maybe you smell." B'Elanna quipped.

"I assure you, as a hologram I..." the Doctor stopped himself and rolled his eyes in irritation.

Seven looked at Torres. "Do you mind if I remain holding Miral?"

"No, of course not. I'll welcome the break from my back pain." As if to emphasize this, she stood and stretched in an animated manner. "Just hand her back if you get tired, or if she gets too fussy." Torres winked and slapped the Doctor on the back. "All right, let's get some cake."

As they walked away, Seven took the moment of opportunity to hold up Miral and look at her. She studied the quarter-Klingon's tiny features, including her deep brown eyes that seemed to occupy the majority of her olive-skinned face. Miral simply stared back, their quizzical and innocent expressions practically mirror images of one another.

"So..." Seven quickly glanced towards the bedroom door to confirm that everyone else was truly gone, "I am unfamiliar with infants with regard to practical situations, but you seem like a suitable teacher." She broke out into a wide smile at her own use of humor, which Miral responded to with a toothless grin of her own. Seven found this even more amusing and began to laugh. Her echoing laughter filled the small room, and the infant cooed responsively.

After a moment of this, Seven regained her typical demeanor.

"We are going to go watch Chakotay receive his birthday cake now. There will be many people, but your mother will also be there. Are you ready to go?" The blonde searched her tiny companion's eyes for a reply, then decided that waiting a few seconds was sufficient. She kissed Miral on the arm as she had seen B'Elanna do, then headed towards the party once more.


	3. Celaya

Chapter 2 - Celaya 

The 24th century looked favorably upon the cities of Earth, and Celaya, México, was no exception. Any shuttle-view of the cityscape revealed a hybrid of modern technology along with history preserved through neoclassical stucco architecture. In the heart of Celaya was a symbolic "water tower" that paid homage to the deep roots of the area, though the building's insides actually served as a public recreation center and museum, capable of holding up to 2000 people. This was one of the few structures within city limits that was not dedicated to galactic commerce, as the area had become a "hub" of sorts for manufacturing commercial goods that appealed to alien merchants. Culturally, as well as economically, Celaya was rich with entrepreneurs and innovators who maintained the friendly – yet elitist – atmosphere of the city.

John Torres had managed to find his niche in Celaya, though it had taken him 11 years to do so. Establishing a business within the area guaranteed customers more loyal than any known in the quadrant, but they expected proof of relentless dedication before they allowed contracts. He had nearly been driven to bankruptcy 3 times, but every time it seemed that the straw would break the camel's proverbial back, John managed to pull through by the proverbial skin of his teeth.

By 2377, it was clear that the Torres name would not be disappearing off any merchant's list, especially when it came to civilian warp engines and perpetual plasma generators. He wasn't in line for the SocioEco Commerce Designer of the Year Award, but his humble lifestyle was easily supported by his ideas, along with the 9 project members who supplemented his team at the time. In 2378, his daughter B'Elanna was hired on as a part-time engineer, along with a set of Bajoran fraternal twins who had been trained as chemists at the New Academy in Athens: Cas Ti and Cas Geni.

John lived in a unit-based housing system along the northern border of the city, in what was known as a SIRc area, standing for Sustainable Immigration Resource center. He had owned a private residence previously, but when B'Elanna returned to the Alpha quadrant, John had moved into the SIRc because he hoped the social resources would give her incentive to visit him. All SIRc areas operated with a familial principle – neighbors were expected to offer their talents and services to one another as trade communally. His plan had been a success, although it was hard to say if it directly had caused for his daughter's decision to move to Celaya or not, since she never gave him a real reason. Miral and B'Elanna simply arranged to take up a unit two floors below John's, and no explanation was offered, or requested. The only thing he had asked her was if her husband would like help finding some work in the city, to which she had replied: "he might, if he weren't going to be flying from beta 3 to the Cardassian border for the next 18 months".

Secretly, John was indifferent to the fact that Paris had been indisposed by Starfleet. He knew that he should have sympathy for his daughter being left to raise a child alone, but he couldn't help feeling as though he had more opportunities to get to know the woman she had become, not to mention spend more time with his granddaughter. He never let on, but simply made himself available for anything they needed no matter what else might be happening at the time. After B'Elanna had been living in the SIRc for several months, she and her father developed a form of trust that was basic at best, but necessary for them to establish a professional and civil relationship. He learned immediately that he could trust her judgment, even though a part of him still thought of her as the 6 year old girl he had left behind.

The night after returning from Chakotay's birthday party, B'Elanna invited John to have dinner with her at one of the SIRc's exchange restaurants. They spoke about the party, how many former crewmembers were going back to the Maquis, and the transport to Arizona. Eventually the conversation turned to Seven of Nine.

"...she's very good with Miral, it's easy to tell right away when she likes someone because she doesn't cry."

"You were like that, too, when you were a baby. You were always picking and choosing from everyone around you and deciding if they met your strict criteria."

B'Elanna smiled slightly, but pressed on with her train of thought. "I called Janeway this morning to talk to her about it. She is concerned, not just about Seven, but most of the crew. She told me she was working with Deanna Troi to establish a counseling program that will specifically focus around these types of problems." She took a fast bite of tamale, swallowed without chewing, then continued. "It's all a lot of psychology bullshit I don't really buy into, and I think Troi is getting out-of-touch, but at least it's something. More than most of them have."

"Do you think you will take advantage of it?"

She scoffed indignantly. "I'm fine, I don't need any counseling. Except maybe to figure out a way to break Admiral Paris's nose without anyone noticing it."

John raised his eyebrows in surprise. "So it _was_ him who had Tom sent on that mission?"

"Definitely." B'Elanna adamantly nodded. "I dropped some hints around Barclay at the party and he confirmed it. The man is easier to get information from than a Jak'h talon. Anyway, there's nothing I can do about that now, but I wanted to talk to you about Seven. She is hoping that Starfleet will clear her, but Janeway said there isn't a chance of it. She couldn't even go through the Academy at this point, even though with her knowledge and experience, they should be letting her _teach _there."

"But you talked to her about Celaya? We don't have room for a lot of people right now, but if we get another big contract, I can see hiring on 3 more, and she sounds right for it from all you've said."

"I think she's interested. It's just a matter of getting her to realize that Starfleet isn't going to place her anywhere, but she doesn't really want to accept it yet. Once she does, and no longer is hoping for things to change, I think she will be much more open to the possibility of working somewhere and leading a regular life."

"Not a life on a starship, you mean?" John asked with a crooked grin. His daughter had told him that winking made him look like a dirty old man, so he resisted the urge to do so, even though he thought it would go along well with the joke.

"Well it's her whole reality. She had never spent more than a few weeks planetside until now."

He reached out and placed his hand over B'Elanna's and looked her in the eye. "You are kind to be concerned with the well-being of your friends."

The half-Klingon shifted uncomfortably, but didn't pull her hand away. "Thanks." She muttered.

John smiled widely, then they both resumed eating their meals in silence for several minutes. B'Elanna ate quicker than before, feeling suddenly eager to get home and contact Seven to let her know the position was a certain offer.

* * *

"Ensign, report."

"There are two lifesigns, Captain. They appear faint." The operations officer entered a few more commands into his station rapidly. "It appears they have weapons, but no shields."

Captain Bentley leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his thick mop of red, Irish hair. "Paris, can you get us close enough to beam them out while staying out of weapons range?"

"I'll try, sir." Tom punched in several coordinates to the Gridiron's helm, leading them in a broad circle around the damaged ship.

"Ensign," Bentley directed to his Klingon communications officer, "make sure they go straight to the brig, I want them secured, but get a medical team down there waiting."

"Aye, Captain."

Paris swung the ship around. "We're in range." He announced.

The disabled ship was not firing, but Tom didn't give them the chance, either. Once the announcement came through that the Cardassians were aboard, Bentley jumped out of his Captain's chair and headed to the turbolift.

"Commander, have the bridge." Bentley tossed over his shoulder, before the doors closed behind him.


	4. Succession

Chapter 3 - Succession

Chakotay sat in the living room, facing the fireplace, drinking a scotch and water. He stared thoughtfully into the flames, while behind him chaos ensued as Freddy Bristow and three friends were staging an impromptu wrestling match. The former Maquis Captain felt in a way as though nothing had changed, like he had been sucked through a temporal distortion that landed him 8 years in the past.

_Except for the gray hair. _He thought to himself with a slight grin.

Freddy had managed to secure a wrist-lock on David, another former Maquis and Voyager crewman, and some yelling erupted from the group over it. It had been two months since Chakotay's birthday party, and 11 new house guests had managed to migrate into the ranch which had already been fully occupied. They all had plans for the future, but their ideas took time and excess energy, which it seemed on certain days they were more than happy to expend with wrestling, or chasing after some of the more attractive neighbors. In the meantime, Seven had stayed and assisted with several projects, but her relationship with Chakotay had developed into something far more amicable than before, which to him had seemed impossible. He felt a twinge of bittersweet emotion at the thought of it, and the knowledge that he had traveled across the galaxy and still ended up alone in the end had become too much to bear. He shotgunned the last few ounces of his drink, and dropped the glass to the floor with a slight "thud". After a few seconds of careful deliberation, he was able to stand, and wavered towards the kitchen to retrieve another drink.

"Hey Chak'," David asked, halting from the rough-housing for a brief second. "Where's Seven today? I haven't seen her."

Chakotay flinched unintentionally. "I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? What do you mean?"

Freddy tugged on his companion's sleeve. "Come on David, we've got two rounds left."

There was an awkward pause in the room, but the curious young man simply waited for Chakotay's response without sensing anything could be wrong.

"She has moved to México. To work on civilian warp engine technology."

David nodded, but the blank look on his face revealed that he was shocked by this information. "So is she... she just, left like that? What for?"

Chakotay didn't bother to answer, he simply turned and walked into the kitchen. Finding the scotch there, he went to pour it only to realize that he did not have a glass. His confusion only lasted briefly, before he realized it was plenty efficient to drink directly from the bottle.

* * *

"I didn't think the mess hall looked like much, you know we might need to recommend a good chef to them, if they are going to insist on such limited space and supplies."

"Mmhmm."

"The problem with having a small room like that is that you know everyone is going to eat at once, it never works out for everyone to go in there at different times. Then you have an overcrowded space and the food is not as good. I really think they could do with getting a chef outside of Starfleet. Or maybe two chefs."

"Mmm, yes. Sure."

"They could hire Briyn from Detek's, I know that he was upset about not getting enough pay for all the extra hours he does, and I'm sure he would love to work aboard a starship. It would be an exciting change for him. I can talk to him this week, but it would help if you let the Captain know he might apply as a civilian so that he knows that you recommend him."

Harry set down his PADD in his lap and looked up, suddenly paying attention. "What? Libby, no. I can't recommend a civilian for assignment. The Captain won't even accept my friends from Voyager, and they have starfleet experience. Besides, he can't just apply for it, like going to work in a new restaurant or something. That's not how a crew is chosen."

"But I just had to apply and they put me on the ship."

"Yeah, you applied as my fiancé. That's totally different than just a chef who happens to be likable."

Libby stuck out her lower lip in a childish protest. "He's not just likable, he makes great food. I don't want to be stuck on that stupid ship without anything decent to eat."

"Well we'll use the replicator, then."

"You won't get enough rations to eat every meal out of the replicator. We will have to eat in the mess hall at least two days a week. And that's every meal for those two days, I checked."

Harry sighed and picked up his PADD, resuming his reading with a disgruntled expression.

"Well?" Libby persisted.

"Well, what?"

She rolled her eyes with dramatic animation. "What's going on with you, Harry? You spend all of your time working on pointless projects, when you know we have a lot to do with the wedding and your assignment. This fantasy with the holonovels isn't any better."

"It's not a fantasy. I told the Doctor I would review and edit any future publications for him. He respects my opinion, and I'm very honored by it." Harry gestured toward the PADD in his hand. "Besides, he's offered to reimburse me for my help, which I think is worth the few hours of work."

"It's a HOLOGRAM. It's not even capable of forming thoughts. All those holonovels are simply collected data rearranged into a sequence by complicated subroutines."

The irritation in Kim's voice was crystal clear. "Maybe if you had spent time with him, like I have, you would see that he is capable of creative ideas and is just as human as anyone else."

Libby's resolve suddenly faded, and a hurt expression fell over her. "I'm sorry that I can't understand it, then. But why can't you try to let me be a part of the experiences I missed out on with you, instead of shutting me out of them and hiding away all day?"

"How do I let you be a part of seven years? I wasn't here, and you weren't there with me. We both have become completely different people, so much that there is almost nothing about us that is the same as it was when I left. I still don't know if you really waited for me all this time, or if it just was a coincidence that all of the other relationships you tried failed, and then I conveniently appeared once again. And you still don't understand that I had given up on ever seeing you again, although in a way, you're not the same girl that I used to be with, so maybe I never did see her again after all."

"So what are you saying? It was your idea to get married. I thought you said that we should pick up where we left off like nothing ever happened."

He winced slightly. "I didn't quite mean it that way. I do want to get married, I'm not saying that I don't."

Relief spread over Libby, and her body visibly relaxed instantly. "I thought you might be saying that."

"No, I'm not. Of course I want to marry you. But I simply can't show you, or expect you to understand, all that I've been through now. I can only be who I've become and hope that you will meet me here as I am."

Her eyes began to tear ever so slightly, and she abruptly kissed him. Pulling back, Libby smiled. "I will, Harry. Of course."

* * *

Seven sat rigidly in the gray chair, staring at a holoimaging simulation of a dwarf nebula that covered the wall in front of her. "Swimming" among the generated stars where hundreds of Koi fish, an amusing display that she assumed must have been some kind of joke, instead of human error. The low levels of light from the wall illuminated where she sat waiting, in an otherwise pitch dark room.

The door slid open and instantaneously a familiar voice called out "Computer, lights."

Within seconds, Seven was encouraged to stand and pulled tightly into a hug by her former Captain, which she awkwardly reciprocated. Following this greeting, Janeway placed her hands on the tall blonde's shoulders, and looked at her face studiously.

"Excuse me, Seven, but it's so good to see you."

"No need to apologize Ca... Admiral. I also have been looking forward to seeing you again."

Janeway smiled widely and sat down against the wall with the strange fish, opposite Seven, who resumed her place in the gray chair.

"Why were you waiting in the dark? I'm sorry that they didn't tell me the second you got here. How long were you waiting for me?"

"Seventeen minutes, and I did not wish to disturb your lighting parameters as I am your guest." Noticing the disappointed look on Janeway's face, Seven hastily added, "But do not be concerned at my expense. My wait was not unpleasant, and I had a stimulating experience attempting to determine ways that Koi fish of Earth could survive being suspended in space."

Janeway laughed heartily, glancing back at her holoimage. "Well, I suppose it adds to your creativity to think about my wall, but truth be told, it is somewhat of a practical joke from one of my researching partners."

A slight, satisfied smile spread over Seven's lips. "Ah. I had suspected that might be one explanation, and I am pleased to see I guessed correctly."

"That's a very good guess, Seven." Kathryn crossed her legs and lounged back into her chair, settling in with familiarity. "So, I know you are anxious to get 'on with business', as it were, but I think you should know that I have spoken to B'Elanna and her father, John, this morning. They have arranged a unit for you in a sustainable living commune, that I think you will find is very similar to Voyager in many ways. There are several services there that you will be able to take advantage of, including a few engineers familiar with Borg technology, if you should need them. Although..." she paused reflectively, "B'Elanna probably is the best one out of them all."

"I would surmise as much, as she is the most apt engineer I have encountered."

"As have I." Janeway suddenly stopped and leaned forward intently. "I'm terribly sorry, Seven, would you care for anything to drink?"

"No thank you, Admiral. I am sufficiently hydrated."

The former Captain smiled with warmth and nostalgia. "Of course. Anyway, I also did check after our conversation yesterday to see if they have any sophologists in the area, and the nearest who I was familiar with is Dr. Crakye Federov. You can transport to his office from your unit building's transporter room whenever you have an appointment, so it should be very convenient for you."

Seven felt a bit overwhelmed, but tried to respond with gratitude. "I appreciate that. I am still uncertain if counseling is the best route for me, but I do wish to attempt it, as you suggested."

"Perhaps it would help if you did not think of this as a problem which needs to be solved, Seven. Everyone has questions from time to time that they need help answering, and we have learned from Socrates that the truth does not lie in the correct assumption, but rather in the right questions. Only you can determine the reason for who you are. I think that you will like Crakye, and find that he is very knowledgeable. He has written several pieces on Vulcan meditation and how it can be used to determine reason in chaotic situations, so I know that you two will see eye-to-eye when it comes to your passion for the tools of logic."

"I am grateful for your thoughtfulness in this matter, Admiral. I do trust your judgment, so I am satisfied that your choice will benefit me optimally."

Janeway nodded in acknowledgment. "It's my pleasure, Seven. I'm just sorry that we don't have more time to talk before you go to Celaya, but within a few weeks I promise I will come to visit."

"I understand. You are reasonably occupied here by Starfleet, and this time has been valuable for me to spend with you."

This compliment made Kathryn's eyes feel slightly moist, which surprised her. She hadn't expected Seven's visit to make her quite so sentimental for her old ship and crew. To fight the emotion, she stood up briskly. "Well, I still have a few minutes before I need to return to the lab, how about if I escort you back to the transporter station?"

"Thank you, Admiral. I would enjoy the company."

* * *

There was a violent, tearing sea of molten lava spewing in through the door, which created a river, carrying a baby's cradle and a biobed from sickbay wrecklessly in its torrent. B'Elanna could hear Miral crying, but she was too far away to reach. She tried to jump, but something was holding onto her arm and she couldn't shake it.

"Let me go! I've got to reach her!" She screamed, wanting to see what was binding her, but afraid to look away in case the lava swallowed her daughter.

Slowly her body was pulled farther and farther away, downward despite her protests. She knew she was being sucked into the churning river, but she couldn't take her eyes off the floating cradle. All at once, she was surrounded by boiling red liquid, but it felt colder than ice against her skin, a strange surprise. B'Elanna could see various objects floating by that belonged in her room: her clothing, her mother's pendant, her candles. Then the liquid she was drowning in began to change and turn first lavender, then blue. She could see much clearer, but the objects around her shifted into tricorders, comm badges, ration bars.

She propelled herself forward and tried to kick up towards the surface, but the water was covered with dark forms floating at the top that impeded her from breaking through. Her hands clawed at them, and she felt them begin to move, letting light come through and create an outline, revealing what she had suspected. They were bodies, in Starfleet uniforms. Everyone she had known on top of the water. B'Elanna willed herself to break through, and then she was standing above them, looking at all of their faces. Cold. Dead. Eyes wide open.

She was holding a tricorder. Scanning for lifesigns. There was one, but it was faint. She had to walk across the bodies to get closer, and she cursed herself with every step. Before she could look up, she heard the bitter words spewing towards her.

"You don't fucking care, do you?! You fucking Klingon bitch. You don't care. You can't feel anything but anger and hate. You heartless bitch. You killed them, you killed them all. And now, we'll die too."

B'Elanna's eyes found the accuser, though she already knew it was him. Tom was floating on his back holding Miral on his chest. Both their eyes were open. They were both stone white. She leaned forward to look closer, at their lifeless faces, just to say goodbye. When they looked back, she screamed.


End file.
